


I Get Down

by goseaward



Series: One Direction pornlets [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anxiety, Blow Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2015-05-02
Packaged: 2018-03-28 18:10:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3864724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goseaward/pseuds/goseaward
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niall has a problem.  One day, he realizes he's surrounded by the perfect solution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Get Down

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place in a glorious sex AU where One Direction is five single-or-nonmonogamous members.

"If you're bored, I could blow you."

Shit, Niall thinks as soon as the words are out of his mouth. He's only had two beers, how is he drunk enough to say that? Maybe he's bored himself. He's been thinking it lately—a lot, maybe. That's what being surrounded by fit lads will do to you, especially if you're watched too much to give into the impulse. But he hadn't meant to actually _say it_. He doesn't think Harry will beat him up or anything, but that's a hell of a way to come out to your bandmate.

Harry looks up slowly from his phone. They've nominally been watching Game of Thrones on the bus telly, but Harry never pays attention. Surprisingly, he doesn't look bothered by the conversation. "Yeah, all right," he says, and unzips his jeans.

Once he gets over his surprise, Niall can see it's a very good cock, thick and long with a nice well-shaped head on it, exactly what he'd expect from Harry. Well, he's seen it before, of course, plenty of times, just not like this: Harry's already firming up, not hard yet but definitely interested. Niall's not sure if he should feel complimented or just impressed. A good way to break his streak of not giving blowies, at least. He wiggles down so he's on his stomach on the sofa, and when Harry sighs above him, Niall takes it as his cue. 

He grips Harry's cock with one hand, then strokes up and down as he kisses the side of it and starts licking around the head. Harry mostly tastes like soap from the after-show shower, but it's familiar anyway from those long-ago afternoons with a couple of his mates, when they'd do this whilst their parents thought they were playing FIFA. Harry's different from his old mates, likes different things, has different sorts of friends, but Niall knows him just as well, and he thinks it will be just as good. It's familiar, too, how Harry's cock thickens in his hand, getting stiffer and even longer, so Niall takes the tip in his mouth and sucks gently. 

"Wait," Harry says. Niall pulls off with a faint sucking sound that makes him harden in his jeans. He worms a hand underneath himself and undoes his zip as he watches Harry stand up and push his jeans and pants down. He gives up when one of the legs is still tangled around his calf, but Niall doesn't mind: the view is excellent. Usually he tries not to notice Harry's legs, but he supposes he gets to appreciate them now, and they're very appreciable. He rubs his cock and smiles up at Harry. 

When Harry sits back down, he spreads his legs to give Niall more room to work. It's unhygienic, but Niall can tell Paul to get the sofa cleaned later. Leaning back in, he gets one hand around the base of Harry's cock and the other cupping his balls, using the hand on the shaft to guide the head back into his mouth. Harry breathes out audibly, but doesn't move. Good lad. Niall had figured he'd be well-behaved, when he'd allowed himself to consider it. He pushes his head down to touch his lips to the ring of his fingers, then slides back up with a slow twist. 

He knows he looks good with a cock in his mouth: one of the mates he used to suck off in secondary school took photos a couple of times. He'd deleted them when Niall got famous, because he was a mate, but Niall still had a couple of hard copies hidden in his sock drawer at home, just so he could remember what it felt like to be on his knees, mouth full, looking up at the face of the person he was pleasing. Kneeling is his favourite, with blokes or with birds, but it isn't a good idea these days with his bum knee. This isn't so bad, though, except for how hard it is to make eye contact.

Niall goes down again and tilts his head to the side to look up at Harry. He lets Harry's cock slip out into his cheek, pressing up in what's probably a silly-looking bulge, but Harry doesn't look like he finds it funny at all: his face is utterly still, concentrating, and he's biting on his lower lip. Niall rights himself, sucks hard and bobs up and down a few times, getting Harry's cock all nice and wet with saliva so it's easier to slide his lips. He presses his thumb between Harry's balls and listens to his sharply indrawn breath. 

The silence is a little weird. Niall pulls off and gropes Harry's balls a bit more comprehensively. "Guess you don't have four of these," he says, and Harry smiles around his bitten lip.

"How much come do you want in your mouth, anyway?" he says.

"Oh, you think you're coming in my _mouth_ ," Niall says, and Harry slips into one of his dirty smirks. Niall suddenly has a visceral understanding of how Harry manages to pull all those birds, because that expression is kind of funny when he does it to other people, but absolutely devastating when it's focused on you. Niall sticks out his tongue and taps the head of Harry's cock on it a few times, which wipes that look off his face pretty fast. 

Niall cups his tongue and takes Harry's dick back into his mouth. Can't go very deep, unfortunately—for someone who likes sucking cock as much as Niall does, his gag reflex is a real shame—but he can make it wet and sloppy and fast and he knows how to use his tongue. He's starting to get more of a taste now, slick precome mixing with his saliva, and Harry's wide enough that Niall's feeling it in his jaw. Honestly, he's missed these parts of giving a blow job too; he just loves the whole experience. He's never needed much help to get off when he's doing it, even, it's almost enough on its own. Harry starts hitching his hips up and Niall lets go of Harry's balls in favour of giving himself a bit of a rub, squeezed between the sofa cushions and his own weight. He squeezes harder at the base of Harry's dick as he licks around the head then screws upwards to meet his lips going down, and he mimics the motions on his own dick.

Tilting his head, Niall tries to get a good look at Harry's face and—oh fuck, he's rubbing his nipples through his shirt. That's so hot. Niall groans and Harry pushes up against Niall's hand, not hard enough to get any deeper. When Niall sucks hard on his dick Harry whines, and that's hot, too. Niall pulls off long enough to say, "Let me know when you're gonna," and Harry says, quickly, "'m gonna," so Niall wanks him hard and fast with his own spit slicking the way and has a good close-up view as come spurts out of Harry's dick onto his hand, long hard pulses that seem out of character with the amount of buildup they've had. It's almost enough for Niall—he strips his dick harder, presses his face to Harry's damp crotch and comes.

"Did you just—? Christ," Harry says above him. "I would've helped."

"I'm good," Niall says, wrung out and buzzing. "Nice dick, Hazza. Thanks."

"Thank _you_ ," Harry says, scratching softly behind Niall's ears. It feels soothing, and Niall leans his head into it. "Nice blowie. Didn't know you were into that."

Niall doesn't want to talk about it. It's not a thing, really. "Is 'nice' all I'm getting, then?"

"Would you like me to leave you a review on the bus bathroom wall?" See, and that's the sort of filthy thing Niall has been expecting him to say all along.

With a groan, Niall levers himself up. Harry produces tissues from somewhere and holds one out for Niall to use, so he wipes off his hand, and then his other hand, and dabs at a couple of spare spots on his jeans, and cringes when he looks at the sofa. Harry's bare arse is still seated firmly on it, and Niall has made a mess himself. "Stand up, I'm flipping this cushion," he says, "and then we are apologizing profusely to Paul and getting it cleaned, _without_ explaining why."

"I think we should probably apologize to the boys first," Harry says. Niall whips around, heart in his throat, expecting an audience, but apparently Harry was just speaking theoretically. "Or at least warn them."

"I'll let you take care of that."

"Will do." Suddenly there are fingers in the hair by Niall's ear again and Harry draws him in for a sweet, soft kiss. "Thanks," he says, up close to Niall's lips.

"Any time," Niall says. And he means it.

* * *

Liam has to pull him right through grasping hands to get to the car. As soon as they're safe inside, Niall collapses into the seat as far away from Liam as possible. Niall's glad it was him. Liam's probably the only one strong enough to pull that move off, and he doesn't get offended or make sad eyes when Niall can't touch anybody right after. Harry and Louis love him, Niall knows that, but they don't always get it. Liam doesn't either, but he listens better.

"That's not supposed to happen," Liam says sharply to someone outside the car. Niall's all curled up and doesn't see who it is or hear their answer. But the door closes and he can breathe again.

It's about five minutes before he really wants to talk. He knows it scares the other boys, but he can't help it. "Thanks," he says, first off, because he needs to.

Liam puts down his phone and fixes his attention on Niall. "Any time," he says, a little savagely. Niall likes that about Liam: he's a puppy except when he's a mama bear. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, nobody got me, it was just, um, a lot." Niall worries some of the loose threads on his jeans. They should really stop giving him ripped ones, or maybe they should only give him ripped ones. "I'm good now, though, and I think I said I was going to show you that—"

"Oh, yeah," Liam says, nodding, and slides over so he can see Niall's phone screen as he pulls up the video. He doesn't touch Niall, though, which is fine. For now. By the time they're back at the hotel, though, he's feeling a bit alone, the way he does when the fear ebbs enough, so he drags Liam into his room and finds some sort of mindless game show to watch on the telly whilst they cuddle. Bloody America, no panel shows to entertain you. 

Thing is, once they're all tucked up cosy and watching a program, he thinks about all the other times he's watched something with the boys lately. And one time in particular. Liam hasn't shown any particular interest in boys, but then he hasn't _not_ shown interest in boys either. Niall scoots closer and says, "You were really great, earlier."

"It's no problem," Liam said, eyes shifting from the screen down to Niall's face and back again.

"No, really. Thanks, Li," Niall says. He rests his face in the crook of Liam's neck. "I really appreciate it." He kisses the stubble there softly, and Liam freezes.

"You don't need to thank me that way," he says quietly.

Niall pulls up and looks Liam in the eye. He thinks they need eye contact for this. He tries for a joking tone, but he's not joking at all, and he hopes Liam can tell. "What if I was all turned on by your manly protectiveness?" 

Liam goes red when Niall says "turned on." Niall waggles his eyebrows, and he goes even redder.

"Y'see," Niall says, and if he can say it to anybody he can say it to Liam, "I really like to suck cock. And I hardly ever get to." Liam's eyes drop to Niall's mouth, for just a moment, and Niall knows he's got him. He needs to wait and let Liam realize it, too, on his own time, but it's coming.

Finally, Liam says, "Okay," on a breath out. Niall grins and pulls off his shirt, and the corners of Liam's mouth twitch up as he rises and strips too.

He's thick with muscle through the shoulders, rock-hard down his arms and torso, with a dense low-riding patch of hair surrounding a pleasing package of cock and balls. Niall's seen it before, of course, sometimes even by accident, but it's different to look and think that he's going to get his mouth on it. He sucks his lips into his mouth, thinking, and Liam's eyes go right to it and he blushes again. Lovely.

"How do you want to do this?" Liam says.

Niall pushes his shorts down. "On the bed," he says. Liam climbs up, but not before pulling the duvet down: clever lad, Liam. "Lay there, maybe, and I'll—yeah." He crawls between Liam's legs and looks at his face, down his ripped chest and stomach, to his hardening cock. It's right there, and Niall can't help himself: he starts drawing idle patterns on it with the tip of his tongue. Liam sucks a breath in and his hands clench in the sheets by his hips. Niall gets his fingers circled round the base. He enjoys the way the movement of his arm lets his whole side and part of his chest press up against Liam's strong, hairy legs, even as he lazily wanks Liam to a full erection. Liam's eyes are round and surprised, watching intently as Niall licks across the head and in between his fingers, getting things good and slippery. 

Niall moans in a deliberately pornographic way, and Liam's eyebrows go up even further. It's fun, how easily he reacts, how openly he shows it. He wasn't always like that with them, and Niall likes that Liam knows him well enough now to reveal it.

Once Liam's hard enough Niall slides his mouth down, enjoying the soft hurt noise Liam makes when he stops, like it's physically painful he won't get more than that. Bloody gag reflex. Niall squeezes his fingers and sucks gently, moving back to lip at his foreskin where it joins to the head. Liam spreads his thighs wider and lifts his knees in blatant invitation, and Niall licks a finger before he pulls Liam's cock into his mouth again and presses his wet finger to Liam's hole.

Liam squeaks.

Niall laughs and nearly chokes on Liam's dick and has to stop sucking him. Liam doesn't seem to mind, eyes crinkling up at the corners as he laughs too, Niall's favourite Liam smile. "Sorry, mate," Niall says. "I didn't know you could make a noise like that."

"Neither did I!" Liam says. He's just so lovely, warm and friendly. Niall reaches down to press his own dick back against his belly and then sets to work again.

Liam opens for him this time, loud again when Niall finds his prostate and presses up, hard, as he sucks. He hasn't got any hands left for himself, so he ruts against the bedsheets. Liam's cock is warm in his mouth, exactly the right size to keep his jaw open like he likes without aching, and he's so bloody appreciative, praise for Niall spilling from his mouth in between the less coherent noises of pleasure. It's just—nice, is what it is. Comfortable-like.

They build up a rhythm together, Liam rocking gently into Niall's mouth, not hard enough to go any deeper than Niall wants him, as Niall presses up with his finger and tightens his lips and sucks. Liam's got one hand fisted in the sheets and the other tucked behind his head, as if to show off his chest and biceps; Niall knows that's not his style, though. His big, sweet, puppy dog, mama bear Liam, who gets steadily quieter as he gets more overwhelmed.

Niall starts to get an idea as he looks up at Liam's eyes squeezed shut. He's thinking, maybe, about the things he wants, but he can't quite say it aloud until Liam's close. Liam's gasping in great breaths of air—Niall can't hear him breathing out at all, just these long gulps in and then silence, and then Niall pulls off and says, "Come on my face."

"What?" Liam says, voice cracking high.

"Please, come on my face," Niall says, even as Liam's dick thickens in his hand, just before he shoots in hard pulses across Niall's cheek. It's exactly what Niall wanted.

Liam groans and hauls Niall up by the shoulders, gripping his cock as soon as he can reach it, fisting it hard and fast with his fucking amazing arm muscles while he kisses Niall sweet and fast. Niall's toes curl and he twists his whole body—not sure if he's trying to get closer or get away—and then he comes like something Liam pulled out of him with his teeth, sharp and hard and sudden.

"Nice one, Payno," Niall says, when he gets his breath back.

Liam laughs again. "Thanks, Nialler," he says. "Not so bad y'self."

"Cool. I'm gonna wash my face"—Liam blushes again at that—"so you find us something better to watch, yeah?"

"Yeah," Liam says. He watches Niall all the way into the bathroom, looking concerned, but he's back to normal by the time Niall returns. Niall takes advantage of the after-sex nudity to get a good cuddle in, and the happy relaxed feeling lasts him for days.

* * *

Niall wants to take his time with Zayn, kiss the sharp dips above his collarbone and his tiny nipples and the firm points of his hips. But it's hard enough to find Zayn by himself; getting him alone, awake, and interested might be more than Niall can arrange. He manages to swing a night of silly telly, since that's worked rather well so far, but Zayn falls asleep against the pillows almost right away. 

At first Niall takes the opportunity to dream up all the things he's actually going to do—having Zayn right there next to him is definitely inspiration. He doesn't wake up and doesn't wake up, though, and Niall starts to think of ways he could rouse him and also—well, _rouse_ him. Niall's feeling like Zayn's penis should really be in his mouth about now.

He goes for aggressive cuddling. They're both shirtless; he can at least give it a shot. He tucks himself under Zayn's lax arm and butts the top of his head against Zayn's jaw. Zayn makes a sleepy noise and starts automatically petting Niall's hair, which Niall definitely approves of. He's put a lot of effort into training this band up, and it's nice to see his lessons have stuck. "Morning, sleepyhead," Niall says, and Zayn sits right up with a half-awake snort and says, "What?"

"Sorry, sorry, joking," Niall says. "Still evening." He gets his arm round the back of Zayn's waist whilst he's sitting up.

"Not very nice," Zayn says.

"Sorry. Didn't think you'd take it literally."

"'S okay." Zayn scrubs his fingers through the back of Niall's hair for a moment before slumping back. He yawns and stretches, then silently stares at the telly for a minute or two before asking, "What's this?"

"Dunno. Haven't been watching."

Zayn rests his cheek for a moment on the top of Niall's head. "Hmm. Should we see what's on the other channels?"

Suddenly an idea presents itself. "Haven't done hotel-room porn in a while," Niall says.

"No," Zayn says slowly. "You weren't very into that last time, though."

"No." Niall rests one palm against Zayn's flat stomach. "Guess I'm just—horny, or—"

"Y'wanna take care of it? I don't mind."

"Oh, uh—" Niall flushes and leans back to glance at Zayn's face. He looks calm and serene as usual, none of the tiny wicked smile he gets when he's pulling off a joke. Niall wasn't really expecting that invitation, but Zayn still surprises him sometimes. "Well—"

Zayn searches his eyes for a moment. "I mean, I wouldn't mind watching," he says. "You're fitter than the blokes in the porn anyway."

"Oh. Um, oh, all right." Niall can work with that. Maybe it will get Zayn in the mood, too, and then they can get to the point of the evening. Niall pushes down his trackies and the boxers underneath and gets a hand on himself. He's still tucked into Zayn's side, so he's not sure what kind of view Zayn's getting, but he lifts his hips up and strokes a couple of times. All that fantasising next to a sleeping Zayn was good for getting him hard and ready. He tries to think about what putting on a show would look like for a bloke, what he'd like to see, and he pulls his hand up so it covers the head and then lets it show again, peeking out through his fingers, as he strokes back down. 

Zayn shifts next to him. "Could see you better over there," he says quietly.

Niall nods and scrambles to the other side of the bed, kicking his trackies and pants off as he goes. He draws his knee up so he's tilted towards Zayn and strokes slowly, plays with his foreskin. Zayn's eyes are hot on him, dark, lids closed slightly so he's watching under his lashes, and it's so—sexy, it's just sexy. Niall thrusts into his hand, tensing his stomach as he does it, and thumbs across his slit. He can feel that his face is red. He blushes so easily, but maybe it looks sex-flushed instead of just blotchy embarrassment like his usual. He settles into a rhythm of long pulls, nothing fancy, riding his hand, aware he's starting to whimper sometimes when his thumb catches just right.

Zayn reaches across the bed and pinches the nearest nipple, and Niall groans, thrusting up out of rhythm. Fuck, that felt good. "Yeah, you like that," Zayn says. He's out of breath, turned on maybe, but dead certain. "Me too." 

Niall glances down and feels a rush of heat at the bulge when he sees the bulge in Zayn's shorts. Something's working at least. Niall pinches his own nipple, not sure what else to do, then the other. It causes these little zings of pain that go right to his cock, twitching in his hand. Zayn makes a small noise when he sees it. Niall spreads his legs, adjusting himself on the bed, and cups his balls as he pulls faster on his cock. 

He manages a couple of minutes like that, wanking off just how he likes it, trying to put a show on, but the encouraging noises Zayn's making are driving him crazy. He's getting—well. He's getting close to coming, and it's embarrassing, but Zayn had been sleeping next to him, all cheekbones and eyelashes and open pink mouth, and Niall can't help it if he got carried away. He rubs, short, right up near the head of his cock, and it's like Zayn can tell because from the other side of the bed Niall hears, "Yeah, babe. Come for me." 

To his disappointment, Niall does not manage to come on command, but he does moan out loud and kick his bent leg out even further so he can get in a couple of good hard strokes before he comes all over himself.

He looks over at Zayn almost immediately, and Zayn has his hand down his pants, and—"No, no, that's _mine_ ," Niall says before he can think about it. 

Zayn smiles faintly, like he's not surprised at all. He takes he takes his hand out and pushes all the fabric down so he's exposed. "Yeah?" he says. Fuck, his cock is so lovely, straight and thick and stiff. Niall did that. Well, participated in it. 

"Yeah, I wanna," Niall says, reaching out and grasping at air because his arms aren't long enough to get to Zayn's cock and he's not up to moving yet. "Come on."

"Oh," Zayn says. He starts to roll over, and Niall can't help what he wants; he gasps out, "No, no, sit on my chest, you should fuck my face," and Zayn's eyebrows shoot right up to his messy fringe before he grins and kneels up.

Niall's not a very big man, but neither is Zayn, so it's not too heavy for him. He's loose and buzzy now from coming, but in this position he doesn't have to move, just has to open his mouth and let Zayn slip his dick inside. Fuck, that's great. Zayn doesn't push in too far, either, very polite. Niall tenses his lips around the shaft and sucks as Zayn tries a first experimental thrust. He can't tell if this is easier because he's relaxed or harder because he's not as turned on, but it's not too difficult either way. Zayn's thighs make a nice place to rest his hands, anyway.

"Your mouth," Zayn says, thrusting again. He sounds approving. Niall flutters his eyelashes down—he's learned something from Harry, after all—and watches as Zayn starts fingering his nipples. They're all peaked up, small and pinkish-brown, getting darker as Zayn plays with them. Niall closes his eyes and pictures them pierced, shiny silver against all the black ink on Zayn's chest, and moans around Zayn's cock where it fills his mouth. Zayn hitches forward at that.

When he opens his eyes again, Zayn's licking his lower lip, slow and filthy, but almost like he doesn't know he's doing it. He's got his nipples pulled hard away from his chest, and Niall wonders, briefly, if that's a learned response from sharing a band with Louis, or if maybe he liked it all along and had to hide his inappropriate wood the first time Louis tried it on him—fuck, that's an image. Niall sucks harder and Zayn makes a noise, so he sticks out his tongue, flickering against the part of Zayn's shaft that hasn't made it inside his mouth, and grabs the base with his hand. He can't really get his hand wet since there's a nice warm cock in the way, but maybe if he squeezes and sucks harder—

Above him, Zayn says, "Oh," softly, and pulls back. Niall gives him a thumbs up as he wanks him harder, root to tip, and Zayn laughs even as he comes all over Niall's hand and chest.

After, he slides down and cuddles into Niall's side for a minute. "Much better than porn," he says sleepily, and Niall smiles and plays with his hair.

* * *

Harry, in the toilets, three hours before a show. Niall can't take him deep at all, not if he wants to sing, but they both seem to like the challenge.

* * *

When Louis doesn't answer his hotel room door, Niall lets himself in. He's got Louis's spare keycard, lifted the night before during some blowjob planning that he'd ultimately abandoned in favour of sleep. He expects to find Louis sleeping or in the shower, but there's no sign of him. Well, really, there are a lot of signs. A small whirlwind of clothing has taken over every available surface. Niall's not sure how Louis does that, or how he gets it all packed again before they leave. 

He moves a few shirts off the desk chair so he can sit and spin and look at the walls, waiting for Louis to return. But the slumping pile of fabric bothers him, so he folds the shirts. Folds them, and then maybe...stacks them, just so they're all in one place. Once he starts, though, it seems silly to leave all the rest of it lying around when he's bored anyway, and before Niall knows it he's folded all of Louis's clothes into clean and not clean piles (erring on the side of not clean: nothing could make him sniff Louis's dirty pants, or, worse, his dirty socks). Mostly it's just calming, the way neatening things always clears his head, but it's nice, too, taking the mess and turning it back into something Louis can use. He finds Louis's bags in the cupboard by the door and puts most of the clothes in there, leaving out his usual travel clothes for the next day, trackies and a soft T-shirt too big in the collar. 

Then he sits on the bed and thinks, _The fuck did I just do?_ Pack for Louis, apparently. It gives him a kind of shiver he can't really explain, something so intimate about it, getting Louis's things ready for him to use when Niall won't even be there to see it. 

He doesn't have long to freak out about it because Louis comes back almost as soon as he's done. He smiles at Niall when he gets the door open, but his expression has slipped into shock before the latch clicks closed again. "Was there a break-in?" he says first, low and serious. "You could've had someone get me."

"Ah—no." Niall gestures at the packed bags at his feet.

"You _packed_ for me?" Louis says, voice going high. He doesn't sound unhappy, just puzzled. He walks into the room and looks around. Spotting the pile of clothes Niall left on the bed, he comes over to investigate, and Niall just—he grabs Louis's hips as he goes by; he can't help it. He can pass it off as horsing around, but he needs to touch, just for a moment.

Louis pauses, and then his whole expression relaxes and he says, "Fucking finally."

Niall blinks at him.

"Everybody else in the band before me? Really, Niall? I was feeling very ignored." Louis unzips his jeans. Niall feels like his eyes are about to fall out of his head. "Get up on the bed, there's a lad."

"How do you know, um," Niall says as he obeys, propping himself up against the pillows.

"No, no, head off the side," Louis says. "It's a better angle. Anyway, Liam felt the need to confess to the rest of us, and I admit, I was pretty surprised. Especially when Harry chimed in with some kind of rambling ode to your tongue." 

Niall blushes at that, but he hopes it just looks like the blood rushing to his head. He leans back over the edge of the bed, getting a good eyeful as Louis strips off his jeans and pants. 

"And then! When Zayn said he'd had you too! What was I supposed to think? That you didn't care about me at all?"

Louis's cock is thick in his hand, just a touch longer than Niall can usually take all the way in. He bends at the knees so he's at proper mouth-level for Niall. He's jacking himself quickly, getting good and hard.

"I've been looking forward to this," he says. Niall blushes more, but Louis's got his cock resting on Niall's top lip now, so Niall just opens up and lets him slip inside. Fuck, he tastes good. It's harder for Niall to keep his teeth out of the way from this angle, and harder to press with his tongue, but he does it anyway, scrubbing side to side as Louis thrusts all the way home. He wasn't lying about the angle. Niall's riding the edge of his gag reflex but he can get Louis's prick all the way in, and he's not sure if he could in any other position. 

Admittedly, the view isn't as nice. Not that Niall minds a good pair of balls and a spectacular arse, but it's all a bit right in his face.

Louis starts thrusting into Niall's open mouth, and Niall tries to make it good, getting lots of saliva going so he's nice and wet around the fat slide of Louis's dick. Louis's not going easy, pushing right to the back of Niall's throat every time, not quite hard enough to make Niall struggle, but it's a near thing. It's just what he wants, especially when he feels his jeans loosen, Louis's hands undoing his flies.

When he feels Louis's lips seal around the head of his cock, though, Niall's so surprised he has to pull back to breathe. Louis stands up to check on him, then reaches down to rub his fingers along Niall's cheek, calming. "What, the master cocksucker hasn't ever done that?" he says, sounding delighted. Niall's more surprised that Louis's going to blow him than he is at the general concept of a 69, but it's his first time too, so he nods. "Good. I should get something special for being last." Apparently satisfied that Niall's not about to choke or panic, he pushes his dick back into Niall's mouth before he can reply. Niall opens for it, so easy, almost hungry with how much he wants it. God. Who knew Louis would be like this? Niall likes the way he's taking control.

Louis works his cock in and out of Niall's mouth as he sucks Niall down further. He's not getting all of it in, but Niall doesn't need that to come, not with his mouth full of Louis, pinned to the bed by his weight. Something for Louis to use, just like the packed clothes. The idea makes him harder, but it also feels wrong. Because Louis had said he was waiting, and Louis had planned for this, just for him. Like Niall is important, and not just an object; like Niall means something to him.

Niall picks his hands up and puts them on the back of Louis's shoulders, the most convenient place for him to reach. He wishes Louis were naked, so his hands were on skin instead of T-shirt. He rubs his fingers lightly over the bone there, feeling the sharp edges and contours of it, the muscles working as Louis bobs his head. He's sucking Niall's cock, thrusting into his mouth, doing all of the work—Niall doesn't have to do anything at all, and it's blissful and overwhelming. It's hard to concentrate when there's something so hot and wet around his cock, but he wants to get familiar with the feel of Louis's prick, the blunt rim of the head brushing over his tongue. He sucks and rubs his tongue and tries and fails to swallow all the extra spit building up in his mouth. It sounds, God, it sounds obscene, harsh breaths and wet slurping noises, and Niall wants more: he grabs Louis's hips and encourages to him thrust even harder into Niall's mouth, fingers biting into the meat of Louis's arse, and Louis groans around Niall's cock. Niall's nipples are peaked up hard against the soft material of Louis's T-shirt. It's just so _much_ , so much sensation, so much wetness, so much sound.

Louis swallows, and swallows again, and presses down slowly until he's got Niall's whole cock in his mouth. He holds still for two of the longest breaths of Niall's life, then pulls off with a long slow lick. He does it again, and it's so wet—wet around his cock, saliva pooling in the hair at the base. Louis humps his own dick farther into Niall's mouth, and Niall comes, suddenly, just from that, a long slow roll of tense-and-release along his whole body that makes him bend at the waist, lifting his thighs and pushing Louis's dick further into his mouth. Louis starts to jerk his hips back but Niall holds him in place, deep where he wants him, until he's done. 

Louis licks Niall clean and then stands up. "That feels so good," he says, voice cracking, as Niall's hands urge him to thrust again. 

Niall sucks harder and Louis makes a small noise. He lifts one knee up onto the bed by Niall's shoulder and starts pistoning in and out of Niall's mouth again. "Look so pretty like this," he says, and that shouldn't get to Niall—pretty—but it really does. "Can't believe how good you are," fuck, why was Niall thinking he liked silent Louis, this is like being fucking _murdered_ it's so hot, "taking all of me, Christ, you don't know how good this feels." He punctuates that with a long slide out so only the tip of his cock is resting on Niall's tongue, and then shoves back all the way in.

A little wetness is building along Niall's eyelashes, but he doesn't mind. This is just exactly what he wants.

He pulls Louis in, harder, and Louis takes the hint, propping himself up with two fists on Niall's chest and grinding into him, not letting up at all. Niall stops tugging then; it's all he can do to keep breathing without gagging, totally filled up. His whole world is the cock in his mouth and the two circles of pressure on his chest, his hands on Louis's hips and the sound of Louis above him. It feels like no time at all before Louis swears and his dick thickens. When he comes, he pulls back so it spurts across Niall's tongue instead of down his throat. Niall misses him the minute he pulls out. 

Louis looks ready to flop down on the bed, but he gets a look at Niall's face and passes over the tissues first. Then he collapses. 

Rolling onto his front (and narrowly missing Louis's knee with his ear), Niall spits into the tissues. Once it's all out, he grins up at Louis. "Yeah?" he says, still breathing hard.

"Yeah." Louis raises his head to look at him; he seems satisfied with what he sees. "Do you do repeat performances, or are you a heartbreaker, love 'em and leave 'em?"

"Did Harry twice already."

Louis rears back, an over-the-top betrayed look on his face. "Oh, I'm still behind, am I?" he says. "How dare you, I thought we had something special."

Niall laughs. "That's how it is, then? Keeping things even?"

"None of them get to blow you, that's _my_ thing."

"Not very fair for me." He sits up to ruffle Louis's hair, and they get into the kind of silly slapping match they've always gotten into, until Louis grabs his wrists and leans up to peck a brief kiss onto Niall's lips. 

"Okay, they can blow you," Louis says. "If they want. But only if you keep it even."

"By sessions, or by number of orgasms?"

"Oooh, an overachiever." Louis gives him his best shit-eating grin; Louis's best shit-eating grin is truly impressive. "Number of sessions. Do I need to draw up a schedule?"

"I will, I'm the best at it," Niall says.

"Good." Louis kisses him again. It's nice, being kissed by Louis. Then again, it's nice being kissed by any and all of his boys; Niall doesn't like to play favourites.

Which reminds him. "And stop trading notes on me."

"Just making sure you're all right." Louis fixes him with a serious stare. 

"I can take care of meself." He leers at Louis. "And you lot as well."

"I guess you can." 

Louis lets his wrists go. It still amazes him, sometimes, that by chance he'd been given the four best people in the entire world to do this with; he shouldn't be surprised that they're perfect for him in other ways, too. He takes a moment to be grateful for it. Then he starts planning out tour dates and promo events and all the closets he can have sex in, and smiles.


End file.
